


Never Letting Go

by angededesespoir



Series: Anahardt Week [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Multi, let them rest let them be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: Reinhardt reflects on the past while his wife sleeps.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Day 2- “When We Were Young.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _(Can also be read on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/157274640365/never-letting-go).)_

They lay side by side, her breath blowing lightly on his chest, small patch of drool forming.  Part of him wants to squirm from how ticklish it feels.

He forces himself to stay still.  His wife’s not a sound sleeper, and she’s in desperate need of rest, after so many years of living in hiding and chasing after criminals, always alert, at the ready.

He wants to cherish this, holding her close like he used to.  It’s been so lonely without her.  His bed (when he could secure a proper one) felt so cold, so empty.

He used to lay awake at night, tossing and turning.  His thoughts would always drift back to her.  Her in her 20s- lifting heavy equipment and supplies with surprising ease, her voice stern, but radiating warmth as she commands her men.   The first time he sees her make a shot that would be impossible for most people, he feels his knees go weak, and the first time they’re officially introduced, he’s painfully aware how sweaty his palms are, how much his voice booms.  

It blows him away- how firm her hand is in his, the sweet curve of her lips as she smiles at him.  He can feel his face begin to burn when she compliments his work, then jumps right in with suggestions on improvement- causal, with ease, like they’ve been friends for ages.

He thinks of their first date, drowning in her words over tea and coffee at a café they had found near their current base, then walking through a nearby park, the pleasant weight of her leaning against him as he pointed out different flowers and she spewed facts on them.

Their entire lives have been a blur of snippets of peace entwined with chaos. He would not trade it for the world, because for each near-death experience, each loss, each moment of grief, he has the memory of her laughter, the feel of her lips against his, the sweet talks over tea, their vows etched into his brain- stuck on repeat. There’s Fareeha along with them.  There’s the laughter and innocence of a child that reminds them both of what they’re fighting for.  
  


In the end, it was always the memory of Ana, her strength and her dreams and her will that allows him to push forward, to sleep, to dream, to fight, to survive long enough to see this day.

When he first sees her after so many years, he is overcome by too many emotions.  She’s holding him tightly, murmuring comforting words, while he’s down on his aching knees, sobbing.

_How long he had wished, had hoped....._

And it’s _real_.  He has to keep reminding himself of that, even a week later.

His wife is alive.  And just as much his rock now as she was when they first met, first fought by eachothers’ side.

He presses himself closer, eyes slipping shut to the image of a distant memory.

He never wants to lose her, again.  He never wants to let go.


End file.
